He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. " "Right," answered Ireton. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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